


Circle of Order

by DontDieOnMe



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Abuse of Power, Abusive Parents, Aftermath of Torture, Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Apocalypse, Attempted Kidnapping, Bestiality, Betrayal, Biological Warfare, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Cyberpunk, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Degradation, Disturbing Themes, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Dubious Morality, Dystopia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Extremely Underage, Fascism, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Friendship, Gun Violence, Healing, Homophobia, Human Experimentation, Human Trafficking, Humiliation, Identity, Incest, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Medical Torture, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mind Control, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Nazis, Necrophilia, Object Penetration, Objectification, Politics, Post-Apocalypse, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Pregnancy Scares, Prison, Psychological Torture, Public Humiliation, Racism, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Repressed, Revolution, Sadism, Science Fiction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Slave Trade, Slavery, Slow Burn, Steampunk, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Torture, Uniform Kink, Unrequited Love, Virginity, War, Whipping, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26511754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontDieOnMe/pseuds/DontDieOnMe
Summary: There is a revolutionary war brewing, and it wants to tear down the fascist elite who allow and perpetuate the corruption and cruelty rampant in Vaele. Various rebelling factions with differing visions are united at last, for the first time, and the establishment is getting scared.Four young girls are unknowingly at the forefront of a contentious experiment. Developed from monstrous individuals in the past, and given with exceptional abilities, they are expected to uphold a rising revolution against the establishment. Exemplary, exceptional, and unquestioning.But experiments can go wrong, and their masters have greatly underestimated the human will. Digging deeper for the truth, the four realise that what they've always been taught isn't nearly as perfect as they would have thought, and they may have been manipulated and betrayed by those they trusted. Navigating their way through love, hate, pain, and discrimination is difficult, especially when dirty politics and morality come into play. The cruellest beasts seem to take human form.But to face their depraved modern world, they will have to look inwards and face the greatest monsters of all — themselves.
Kudos: 2





	Circle of Order

**Author's Note:**

> Some content depicted later on may be disturbing to some readers; however, they are to supplement the main story and NSFL will not be too graphically depicted. Any sexual content involving those extremely underage will be fade-to-black.
> 
> Prologue is a little bit choppy with some flashbacks as we settle into this fucked up world, the official setting starts from Chapter Two.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and I'll stop blabbering now :)

_My eyes opened, unfocused, spots appearing all over my vision. My confusion quickly melted away, and in its stead ran panic. Panic, for I knew I would sink back into the smothering darkness again. Desperately, I tried to hang onto reality. My fingers instinctively clawed, grabbing tufts of the threadbare sheet underneath my emaciated frame. I tossed and turned, and steel contraptions stabbed into my ribbed sides. What anger and turmoil I would have typically felt all paled to the fear, an inpouring rush of terror breaking through the dam of my haziness._

"Knock her out again."

Someone grunted in obedience.

 _My mouth opened and I tried to scream out, but no sound emerged. My throat was scorching and parched but I could not even let out a cough. Something sharply stabbed my arm and darkness seeped through the edges of my vision. Already, I felt my grasp on my surroundings fading, and it awakened a fight-or-flight instinct in me, but I could do nothing strapped to this bed. Instead, I was helpless, immobile, paralysed, unable to even save myself as my mind screamed_ NO NO NO NO _and my body writhed against my bounds. My consciousness was fading quick and I could already sense the edges of my panic melting away into a false, sedative calm. A sugary-sweet lie meant to pacify me and bring me defenceless into their world of lies. I couldn't fight back I couldn't fight back. My mind went numb._

The same man grunted again.

"What a fucking nuisance." He turned around to face the man who spoke earlier, wiping his gloved hands on his slacks.

The thinner man jotted something down on a notepad.

"Use a stronger dose next time. Nine millilitres should be good," he mused to himself, stroking his thinning moustache, which matched his wiry frame. His eyes were tired and bloodshot as if he had not slept for days on end, yet his stature was still straight as a rod.

His burly, bearded apprentice hesitated. "Nine, sir?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem, Bryd?"

"None, sir," the burly man fumbled. "...It is such a jump from the previous dose, though. Are we sure it's safe?"

The doctor put down his pen. "Miss Quell is getting impatient, Bryd. We need to make progress, something, _anything_ to show her when she arrives in three dawns' time."

"And what if the patient goes berserk like the others?"

The doctor laughed coldly.

"Already accounted for on my behalf, my friend. Our dear subject here..." He touched the girl on the bed gently, brushing a few stray hairs off her brow with an almost-caring look on his face, but Bryd knew better. "...is different." The doctor moved some of her hair out of her face gingerly, and Bryd found himself wincing inwardly.

Bryd expected his doctor to elaborate, but the thin man seemed to be waiting on a response.

"How so, Doctor?" the burly man finally asked.

"In the make-up of her personage," the doctor smirked, the tips of his lips rising in the ghost of a taunt. "We've been approved to send some experts to procure a most special _extract_. She is the perfect lab rat, all pliable and manipulated by our own technicians since before birth. Stronger, smarter, more durable. More reliably obedient, and not prone to the unfortunate seizures that we've witnessed earlier. That comes out of too much mind manipulation, of course, as the regular human creature can only bear so much external interference. But not our dear Subject Hans. She has good backup, an utmost perfect duality for dual protection. Whatever we imprint on her brain will last without the majority of the negative implications we've seen earlier, thanks to this dual protection. Our top researchers have worked extensively and exhaustively to develop a successful methodology for implementation, and after so many prior failures, it's been reported that Subject Hans may be the trailblazer for the rest."

"Pardon sir, duality?"

"Some minor... modifications to her being, to put it so."

Bryd held in his gasp. "Not soulcraft, by any chance, Doctor?"

The doctor laughed. "Such an unscientific term, a most childish word to attempt to grasp the complexity of harnessing and utilising the personage and the mind."

His burly apprentice felt a wave of unease go through him. "That's out-of-bounds, Doctor. Every kingdom has decreed it outlawed since years ago, Ellyris included."

"Well now." The doctor's voice lowered to a whisper. "That shouldn't concern us, now, should it? Ellyris is only a temporary transitionary phase for the people."

"Doctor, they have very good reasons for outlawing it. We know the damage it can do, the havoc it can cause. I've met a dual-soul individual, and they were lunatic and erratic throughout our acquaintance. Their condition only worsened with time. They heard voices, we all did! It was the voices of old, long-gone souls yearning to come back, and they took over him. Our neighbours finally had to resort to stabbing him while he was asleep to keep the demons out. We shouldn't fiddle and play with black practices lightly!"

The doctor waved his concerns aside. "That was so long ago, I'm sure. Our professionals are not amateurs. We don't _play_ at our work."

"It brings lunacy and madness into the world —"

"There is already lunacy and madness in our world, my friend. It presents itself in the chaos and disorder of modern Ellyrian society, and beyond our kingdom as well, from Torrelyn to Arcadia, Atlas to Janara. The rot of corruption has spread itself throughout Vaele, and we are in danger of returning to pre-Cataclysm times. The stratification evident in the seven kingdoms has not helped with this rot. There used to be a time in which our ancestors claimed, 'Strength alone will help you rise!' but that no longer applies. You and I both know just how our meritocracy has devolved into a kleptocracy. The strong are kept down and burdened to raise up the pathetic weakling sons and daughters of the elite. They know how desperate the people are, and they have harnessed that desperation to help further their cronyism, their slavery and feudal interests. In the stead of intellectual leaders, we have ineffective, corrupt, lazy, kakistocracy kings who rape and burn Vaele to the ground. They have turned Darwinist values into hedonism for the lucky few. The people as a collective are their slaves.

"But you already know that. You already know how our monarchs have grown incompetent and our Senators wicked, drunk on power and greed. You already know how they lust after the vulnerable in the most degenerate of ways and perpetuate the fall of righteousness. The Courtinance Front has only managed to stall the inevitable decline into disrepair, and they have done nothing about the degeneracy. Courtinants tolerate the disgusting things the authorities do. The Purist Order is so much better in this regard, but they are weak and ineffectual." He hisses under his breath, displeased, and in a quieter voice, "Marlee can unite them both."

Bryd didn't respond. He wasn't sure how to. The idea of meddling in such dangerous territory was unsettling, to say the least, but his Doctor was confident, brilliant, and never wrong.

"Put her away for now, and don't forget to secure the lock. Don't cause a fuss." The subjects needed to be stored properly in their underground laboratory. The Project had been raided multiple times by ragtag groups and militant rebellions. Half-frozen, mentally unstable subjects had been freed more than once, and it had never had positive results. Extracting Subject Hans back from her little anarchist friends had required a massive effort from the entire team, and altering her memory even riskier. Bryd was a newer recruit and didn't know the backgrounds of their subjects, as far as being aware that Hans had been selected and altered from the womb before complications resulted in a costly and counterproductive change of plans. It had been messy, but they were finally getting back on track.

"I trust that you won't be a fool and leak anything said here today, my friend." The Doctor was smiling but his voice was cold, monotonous, as always.

Bryd nodded discreetly and wrapped Subject Hans back up again, lifting her onto the trolley to move her back to her storing-place, a cool, temperate basement designed to act as a modifier environment.

Outside the cold laboratories with harsh white lighting, there were more naturalistic storage rooms, dorms, and cobblestone pathways, all dimmed by the dirt ceiling overhead that no one could ignore. The walls were damp despite efforts to make it otherwise. Everywhere, it was chilly, lonely, quiet. Up above, it was a dog-eat-dog shitfest, a clown show for the elite cronies, but down here it was a dark escape. There was no way for him to escape the everlasting chill. Most of Bryd's colleagues were not out and about, which was not abnormal. They had been largely weakened.

Pushing her trolley away, he hesitated and moved part of the white wrap away from her face. The girl looked so peaceful, she could practically be sleeping. She wasn't beautiful in any conventional way, not even pretty, but her features were comely and wholesome, a naturalist form of good health that was simply addicting to look at... a decent-looking youth. Her skin, contrasting the ghostly paleness of many of Bryd's colleagues, held a healthy tan, a caramelly olive-skinned naturality. Her shortened hair grew lush, dirty-blonde that glowed darker under direct sunlight exposure which was so rare for the lab members. It gave her an overall bronzed effect. It had been tangled and rough when they had picked her up from her little group but was kept smoothed down and straightened for the laboratory, a difficult task for her locks seemed to have a natural tendency to ruffle itself. He had been told that the girl's eyes were a lively hazelnut brown, but he had only seen them wide-open and frantic, fearful and furious as she fought her restraints.

It was a pity, really. Cute as the youth was when being a staunch little fighter, surely her eyes bright with life and warmth-filled smile when she was at peace would be a delight to look at.

Bryd stopped suddenly, and the trolley gave a few creaks of protest at the sudden pause in motion. He knew it was wrong, to be thinking of a lab rat in such a manner, even if he had not thought of anything crude. She had been entrusted to him as a test subject, despite his relative inexperience. Besides, she was a young girl, a youth no older than... 17? 16? He had already forgotten.

Bryd let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. He rubbed his arms, continuing to breathe out slowly, deliberately. His body shook ever-so-slightly, and his breath rattled in a pronounced manner.

The youth looked so vulnerable in her sedated form, so pliant and unknowing.

"Fuck..." Bryd whispered, and in his momentary guilt, shoved the trolley so far. The cart rattled off along the cobbled path, bouncing the subject's sleeping head up and down, looking very painful.

"Fuck you, girl," the apprentice continued to mutter as he caught up to the runaway trolley. "You fucking nuisance. I have to look after you all the time, and you just lay there to tempt me. Spawn of the devil! You're such a fucking nuisance, you know that right?"

The unconscious adolescent made no response, and was capable of none. It was enraging.

Bryd raised a hand as if to slap her, hit her, anything.

So utterly removed of her defences, so feeble, passive, and unable to resist. An untenable child with no guard.

Bryd put his hand down and continued furtively shoving her trolley to the storing-place.

"You are _such_ a fucking nuisance, your hellish girl. Motherfucker!"

There was the creak of a door nearby opening, and a stony-faced young man glared out.

"What's your problem, Hedge?" the youth intoned.

The burly man stood still, not even bristling at the nickname. "None. I'm merely taking her back to her storeroom."

The young man stepped out and eyed the subject girl, all wrapped up like a corpse, with what could only be interpreted as boredom. Bryd felt a pang.

"And why is it..." He gestured to the subject. "...Presenting you so much hassle?"

"No trouble, no hassle at all, sir." Bryd wiped his still-gloved hands again.

The young man gave another brief, disinterested glance at the pacified subject, and then turned on his heel to retreat to his room. Right at the very edge of his door, he paused, and without turning around: "She is a very lovely girl, Hedge. Take proper care." With that, the back of his head disappeared into his shell.

Bryd heaved out a weighted breath. When he turned back to the subject, it had become plain and homely yet again.

Just as well, he brought her to the chilled storeroom, laid her on her table, and locked the doors surely.

* * *

_FUCK YOU, WHORE!_

Motherfucker _was the first thing that came to my mind._ Just shut the hell up.

_The ringing didn't stop, nor did the loud, brash voices shouting at each other all across the mess hall._

_"Fucking hell, you whore! A fully-centralised attack against a fortified Arlandian capital base holding thousands of citizens? Are you stupid, whore?"_

_"How do_ you _recommend we get the slaves out, then? Huh? Since you're such a genius, dickhead."_

_"We don't! We fucking postpone, wait for an opening! Not resort to violence."_

_"The stakes are too high!" the young woman exploded. "I don't care how psychopathic you are, you can leave at any time. There are_ children _at stake here, innocent children who are going to die if we wait any longer!"_

_"I know you don't care for logistics, but try to think with a rational head for once instead of your fucking feelings. The risk isn't worth —"_

_"Fuck your rationality! I don't care about what you think is worth what, Command agrees and is siding with me! Go leave, if you hate this so much. Leave! Walk out the front door!"_

_"You know I can't fucking leave!" The young man looked as if he were about to say more, but then huffed and made to storm out of the hall. He turned around sharply at the last second and yelled, "Whore!" before exiting the mess._

_The woman was visibly fuming. She whipped around to face me._

_"And what about you, Kam?"_

_"Wha —" I startled. Shit. This wasn't good. "I agree with you, Keni. Of course I do."_

_Keni furrowed her brow._

_"He'll come 'round soon, don't worry about it," I tried._

* * *

"Cry, child."

She did not; if anything, she looked even more stubborn than prior. Her posture was adamant, her features marred with barely restrained fury. Anger and hatred poured off of her in waves worthy of a waterfall, intensely packed with all the power and might of a little girl's ferocity. Smoke rings floated around the two people, making her eyes sting.

"Go on, cry like a dog. Whine, whimper, beg."

In response, she spat.

Her torturer shifted his cigarette to the other hand and slapped her hard across the face.

"Try that again and I'll cut your toes off, one by one," he snarled.

"Go fuck yourself, you miserable son-of-a-whore cunt," she screamed at him. "I don't fucking care what you do to me, I don't fucking care how long it takes, you aren't getting a single thing out of me! Go fuck yourself! Go fuck your mother, your father, your dog and your pigs! Fucking kill yourself! Pig! End your life, go choke on a boar's dick and balls until you die of asphyxiation!"

The man waited patiently for her to finish her filthy stream of colourful cursing, an outpour of inner frustration.

"Are you quite finished yet, dog?" he smirked. He took another long drag of his cigarette. "You know, your lack of cooperation is only punishing yourself."

Although her limbs were all tied to her chair, she made a rude gesture with her fingers and hissed. The man laughed at the girl's antics.

"What are you doing to my friends and Nana, fucker?"

The man's lip curled upwards. "Your Nana is safe, I guarantee you that much. So no need to piss yourself over that."

More colourful language from the young detainee.

"Fuck you, fuck that, I don't believe you. Bring me to her!"

"You're hardly in a position to make demands, are you?" The man cocked his head, amused.

"What about my friends?" she demanded.

"Your precious _comrades_ are awaiting trial. The consequences for their actions will be varied, based on their past with the terrorist group."

"We are not a terror —"

"Coordinated bombings, raids, kidnapping, assault, sedition, and treason. Typically, the legal punishment for consorting with the Winter Watch is the death penalty..."

"No!"

"...We may be merciful and merely chop off their limbs instead."

The girl's eyes grew savage, and her body lunged forward at the man, causing her chin to smack the ground facedown with her chair, still bound to her, falling atop her. She could feel the purple already starting to spread for a new bruise but she didn't care. She rolled onto her side, screaming with rage, her hair and spittle flying about. Her messy locks and bruised face gave a highly unkempt appearance, that of a madwoman. The man simply watched her roll, like a child observing a pet dog.

The girl stopped briefly and looked up into the man's eyes, round face aflame. "I hope you die, fascist scum!"

The man sneered and slapped her again.

"Keep that word out of your mouth, dog," he snarled contemptuously. He shifted his cigarette back into his right hand and pressed the burnt side into his detainee's collarbone.

She grit her teeth to keep from crying out, trying to ignore the sting. She had faced worse pain than the scorching brand of a cigarette burn.

After the cigarette was fully put out, the man tossed it to the side.

"Fuck," the girl groaned. "Scumbag. I'm not telling you anything."

In response, he stepped his boot down on her left hand, crushing it against the floor. Something cracked, and the girl gasped sharply, her eyes quickly filling to the brim with tears. Still, she did not cry.

The man shifted his boot, and more cracks sounded. More stifled gasps.

"You don't need to tell me anything, child," he whispered softly. "I'm not here to interrogate you. I already know everything about you." More cracks, and he shifted his boot to the edges of her fingers. A snapping sound could be heard, and the girl shrieked but held her tears in.

The man crouched down to a squat and appeared to inspect the burn mark on her collarbone. It was growing to a freshly wet red welt, and gently, he pressed his finger against it. The young girl sucked in her breath in preparation. The man smiled and pressed harder. A high-pitched wail emanated from the young girl. The man removed his finger, and the wail stopped. The girl gasped like a fish desperate for air, but her reprieve didn't last long. Some form of brilliant vermillion powder was in her view, and before she knew it, her senses exploded around her collarbone. Her nervous system seemed to have been doused in oil and lit on fire, and the pain was unbearable, fogging up her mind. It was as if she were being electrified. _Paprika._

"We created you," he murmured, continuing to brush the paprika along her collarbone and previous cuts from a prior session.

She was screaming too hard to hear or pay attention to anything he was saying.

"We know everything about you because we made you. And child, you are exactly as we intended you to be."

* * *

_The young woman sat still. She didn't talk, so I didn't reply. I tried picking at my vegetables again, but I had lost my appetite._

_After a while. "Do you... do you think he was right?"_

_"No." I was surprised but tried to hide it. Keni never doubted herself._

_"You're just saying that to appease me."_

_"No, I'm not. I've seen firsthand the cruelty of these people. I won't stand by innocent kids being brutalised."_

_"But what about the risk —"_

_"Fuck the death toll, we all signed up for this shit voluntarily. Of our own free wills. Those children didn't."_

_Keni hesitated still. "Regular citizens. Are there really... thousands?"_

_"Sure. Maybe. I don't give a damn." I felt a chill run down my spine. Did I give a damn?_

_"But —"_

_"They're complicit, Keni. They know and see what is going on around them. They don't care. They're just as complicit. Besides, nothing that bad is going to happen. Don't you worry about it."_

_Keni nodded. Then she hugged me, bursting into tears. "Thank you, Kammie."_

_I patted her back awkwardly, not quite sure what to say or do, but liking being enveloped in her sincerity and warmth._

_Keni kept sobbing noisily, the ugly tears running free. After a while, she quieted down a bit, sniffing._

_"You don't have to go, you know." She toed the dirt below our bench, purposely avoiding my gaze._

_"I do. Like, I will go."_

_"No, no... you're too young."_

_Tiredly: "You don't have to worry about me. I want this."_

_"It's not that I doubt you, Kam. But it's far too dangerous." The woman hesitated. "Besides, we need you at the base to work on the steam-powered artillery. The newest model might just be what we need to break through the enemy range and breach defensive walls at the final offensive of the month."_

_"I'm doing that all day long, and I'll continue to when I'm back from the raid," I said, frustrated._

_"The newest munitions haven't been perfected."_

_I waved her concerns away. "They are fine, I've looked at them already."_

_"Their range is too limited," Keni's voice rose rapidly higher. "You're our best, one of our top engineers."_

_"I'm a good fighter too," I asserted defensively. What was she trying to do here?_

_Keni stood up all of a sudden._

_"Think about it, will you," she said tersely. "You're... too important to the cause to be lost."_

_"I'm no more important than you are, and you're going too."_

_An awkward pause._

_"You don't understand."_

_I clenched my fists and stood up too so that we would be closer in height and stature. Although I was of a moderate height for my age, I towered over Keni by half a head._

_"So make me understand. What is there to understand?" I tried to keep the anger out of my voice. What game was she playing at?_

* * *

Fear, perhaps, is the easiest way to break a revolutionary.

Pain works well, and torture had done wonders for the Project. But it was not enough to scar or torture any devotee to a cause. One had to go further than simply physically breaking them.

The subject was extraordinary, to say the least. Even that would be an understatement, of course. Quell's personal advisor, Jones, had come along to see the progress made, and he had been thoroughly satisfied with what he had witnessed.

"Excellent, excellent," he muttered to himself under his breath, jotting notes down tirelessly. He paced the room the entire time, seemingly without pause.

The apprentice beamed with pride. The doctor gave a rare smile.

"Subject Hans is truly a first, and such a magnificent one too, sir. If you would allow me to demonstrate —"

"No need for that," Jones said, waving the doctor away. The thin doctor melted back against the wall, clearly crossed between indignant and cowering.

Jones stepped closer to the one-way mirror, putting his face so close that it began to fog up. His nose was almost touching the viewing panel. With a quick motion, he gave a smart rap on the glass, just a few quick taps.

The subject stopped her grandiose performance and walked over to the sound obediently despite not being able to see Jones.

"You, child, are going to be the face of Elendor one day."

The subject did not respond.

Jones gave a brusque smile. "Who are you?"

"Project Subject HK01," she intoned in the same offhand manner.

The man's smile widened. "Where are you from?"

"The Kingdom of Janara."

"What is your backstory?"

"I was raised as a single child by my Nana in a rural village. We were hunters, and as she grew older, I hunted and she gathered. One day while I was out hunting, I came across a dangerous wereboar, but was luckily saved by Janaran officials who rescued me and brought me to the capital. There, intrigued, they looked through my past files and found me to be talented. They're going to send me to school in a few months, I'm really excited. I haven't been to school like the rich city snobs, my Nana taught me everything including how to read and write even though she is half-blind. Nana is coming along too, the school was kind enough to let her sleep in the basement. I'm excited to see what city schools are like, I bet they're much better than Nana's old hut."

Jones could barely hide his excitement now. "Correct, my child, you are going to Eral Academy. A most prestigious collegiate experience for gifted youth such as you."

The girl smiled at his praise.

"You are a blade-bonder, I have been told? It's in your files."

At this, the girl's eyes truly livened up. "Yes, it's true! We've become much rarer nowadays since all the good ones have been sent to keep out the rebels from the south and north, but I am one!"

"And do you know what this entails?"

"Yes; a few are born with the ability to bond with a _Live Blade_ which grants them a unique relationship and powers! I've been imagining what mine would look like. I used a bow-and-arrow mostly for hunting, but a dagger would be cool. Ooh," she breathed, "or a longsword! Or a mace! Or an axe, or anything really! I hope I get a second-rohr weapon, but a first-rohr weapon would be fine too I guess. Most people do end up with a first-rohr. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I just think it would be cool to have greater capacities to help fight for my nation."

"Feeling pretty talkative today, child?"

"Yeah," the girl admitted, scratching her head. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't mean to be a nuisance."

Jones laughed. "It's fine, I won't think much of it."

* * *

_Keni looked equally furious, but then her face melted into resign and she shook her head. "If they capture you again, they will do things to you... Horrible things. They will turn you into their twisted little experiment and practise cruel, forbidden practices on you. You will go through living hell and emerge on the other side worse. It would be worse for everybody."_

_"Capture me again? What do you mean?" Was she losing it? Keni made to leave but I quickly grabbed onto her arm. "What the fuck do you mean?"_

_The young woman narrowed her eyes at me, and despite our obvious height difference, she seemed to look me level in the eye. "I," she began, "should not have spoken."_

_"Wha —"_

_"Forget about it!" she snapped. "Go if you want to, fine, fuck this all and fuck you! Command will fucking murder me, but don't say I didn't warn you."_

_"Command? I've never even talked to them, Ken —"_

_"I said too much!" burst out. Then, dead silence. Keni patted her silky blonde hair smooth. "I'm sorry for telling you 'fuck you', K." She turned on her heel and briskly made to walk away._

_What the fuck?_

_"Keni, wait."_

_It was too late._

_I closed my eyes and breathed. In, out. In, out. Always with the stupid games. I had never been captured by enemy forces because I was competent and agile. Even if had been and all the bullshit my older comrade just spouted was true, a real revolutionary would not be dissuaded by the possibility of torture. We know better than to be captured alive._

* * *

"It is fortunate that we had our informant on hand."

The man stood with his back to the doctor's apprentice.

"Quite the capture, if I say so myself. Thirteen new detainees, all prominent fighters at the forefront, but most importantly, our special girl," the young man mused to himself. "Hedge, please escort Joseph to an available room to settle down in later."

Bryd bristled at the younger man ordering him around but gave a dip of his head.

"How did the meeting go, if you may enlighten me?" The man finally turned around and smiled, a warm beam that seemed off-puttingly sincere.

"Not too shit. Jones was pleased. He said that he would promote Dr Forren and that he would check in again in two weeks time. He expects to be equally, if not more, impressed as he was this time."

"And?"

Brief hesitation. "It may be possible that a member of the Triumvirate will accompany him next time."

"That sounds nice."

"He was very dismissive of us, the condescending rat," Bryd complained, glowering.

The young man waved his complaints away. "That's hardly the matter here, is it? The Project is getting back on its feet."

He turned to leave, but stopped and tossed his head over his shoulder at the burly apprentice. "Just out of curiosity, Bryd."

"Yes?"

"Does she have a name?"

"What, the girl?"

The young man dipped his head. "She's going to be called something proper after you've finished tweaking, yes? Have you picked out a name?"

"Ah, yes. Camille, probably. Or maybe Camila. We haven't quite decided yet."

The youth smiled. "That sounds fitting." He then lowered his voice and looked to the side. "I know that she's been... tweaked with, in _forbidden ways_ , to put it lightly."

Bryd swallowed, not answering.

"It's very fascinating, a very fascinating process indeed. You love to see it."

"Er, do you..." Bryd attempted, faltering. The young man raised an eyebrow. Bryd coughed. "Do you know who they borrowed the, er, soul extract from? Anyone notable? Or is that classified information?"

The young man laughed and turned back to the door.

"It's an engineer, Hedge. That much I can tell you."

**Author's Note:**

> Stratification runs deep through the veins of Vaelean society, through all classes, races, and abilities.
> 
> During the Cataclysm, the People revolted. They rose up against a dangerous hyper-collectivism that was threatening to become akin to a hive mind. They cast off their bonds and limitations and handicaps which forcibly made them lesser, a gear in the ever-working machine. The complete erasure of the individual terrified the collective, so they formed new kingdoms from the ashes and vowed never to sink back into subservience. Natural competition was reborn, the value of strength and intellect reintroduced. Power alone would help you rise. The Individual was seemingly restored. No longer would we be aggressed, violated, trampled, enslaved. No longer were we all made the same in every respect, in a twisted perversion of "equality". The People promised to let competition and individuality ensue once more.
> 
> But over the years, Vaele became inevitably corrupted again. Seven fascistic kingdoms under the guise of so-called democracy, and rebelling factions who were just as dirty in their own way. Black markets, slave trades, torture, and abuse run rampant among the squabbling masses, while the elite sit atop an abundance of power and fortune, apathetic.
> 
> Some have developed unusual quirks and advantages through their ancestors' adaptation to the newly harrowing surroundings. Some dabble in magic and sorcery, both light and dark. Some engage in dark forces such as necromancy and soulcraft. Some reveal powerful abilities ingrained deep within them, abilities to manipulate their surroundings. And a few are born with the ability to bond with a Live Blade — a unique weapon that connects and responds with one individual — prized above the rest. They become ferocious warriors, wise advisors, and scheming Senators.
> 
> Most are not so lucky.
> 
> Marked as 'Explicit' for the type of content, not the description style; most graphic descriptions will refer to violence and gore rather than sexually explicit erotica. There may be sexual themes of a disturbing nature, but they will be either written as fade-to-black or in a lighter depiction. This is not a smut-based story (that's not necessarily to say there isn't anything erotic... if you're into that stuff, heh). All that being said, shockcore is not the main focus of the plot.
> 
> Triggering themes may include: Suicidal thoughts, suicide, self-harm, self-hatred, abuse, torture, rape, sexual harassment, substance abuse, necrophilia, bestiality, cannibalism, underage sexual activity, as well as highly discriminatory and offensive language, etc.
> 
> A lot of this will take place later on in the story and not happen for at least a good amount of chapters. For explicit scenes covering the most extreme topics, I will put an individual trigger warning at the start of the chapter. I'll also put a notice if there will be explicit sex scenes ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) in case you just want to skip that.
> 
> There will be a bit of a time skip between the prologue and the next chapter, where we officially start from one of the main characters' perspective. Please leave some comments, thoughts, feedback :)


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